It wasn't long after Spider-man's departure that the NYPD police cars careened onto the scene with a squeal of tires. The response time for yet another shooting in Hell's Kitchen clearly wasn't the best, but at least they made it there. The police tape went up and bystanders were questioned. It didn't require Sherlock Holmes to figure out that Spider-man had shown up, since one of the two shooters had to deal with web to the face that took more than one cop with several changes of gloves to clean up. But the other two that were fired at weren't on the NYPD radar. They were looking for the targets, one enhanced individual and an acrobat with either a bow or a staff. Due to running for cover, no one got a good look, or a clear pic or video of either of them.
The police tape went up, bullet trajectories were marked, and relevant bystanders were questioned. Two bad guys were carted off into the back of a waiting police van. Still nothing, although the bodega owner gave a description of Ellen and that she bought some coffee. Big whoop, thought the detective, even if he added that to the crime scene notes. Then he ordered some coffee. It wasn't bad.
Sudden shootings tended to shell-shock people. Details got sketchy and leads tended to dry up quick. This time didn't seem like it was going to be any different.
Soon enough, the crime scene was processed and the tape came down. The morning rush of people getting to work filled the streets, and they didn't even spare a second glance at a bullet hole here or there.
Life went on in Hell's Kitchen. As life inevitably did.